


What You Want

by LadyKF



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Beware multiple F-bombs, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Swearing, Valenwind, rated for Cid's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 01:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKF/pseuds/LadyKF
Summary: Cid's always reached for the stars. (Sometimes, he even caught them.)





	What You Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enide_Dear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enide_Dear/gifts).



> **Prompt:** Cid accomplished his dream by age 32. Now what is he supposed to do with his life?

After all was said and done, the world was saved from near destruction - again - and there was a chance to breathe. A chance to stand back, catch your breath, and look around.

Reeve, as usual, had shouldered the bulk of the burden of cleaning up the mess, with Rufus quietly assisting in the background. For a while, AVALANCHE helped, some more than others, but eventually most of them scattered. Tifa had kids to raise. Barret had the family to help provide for and a fuel crisis to solve. Yuffie had a nation to learn to rule at long last. Nanaki's _ability_ to assist was limited, and he was needed back in Cosmo Canyon. Cloud worked deep in the ruins, rooting out any remaining threats, biological or mechanical. And Vincent, as he was wont to do, promptly went missing.

Cid, of course, was still in charge of the WRO air forces, domestic _and_ militant, though they were all currently employed for more domestic uses like ferrying supplies and people. He was tied up, and he _hated_ it, because there was so much else on his mind. So many more thoughts and feelings simmering away until his skin felt too tight and he felt like he might scream.

Shelke found Vincent at that goddamn cave, marinating in memories - or so he'd assumed. Vincent was good at that. Decades of practice had made him a goddamn _expert._

Only, he seemed… _different_ when he came back. More at peace, Tifa said. Settled, Reeve said. Cid didn't argue with them but it felt a lot less like a general peacefulness and a lot more like… like he'd finally made up his mind about something, and some of that restlessness had settled down because of it. Like maybe, for the first time since Meteorfall, he had a _goal_ again.

Cid was not in a habit of envying people, but he envied that.

He was a dreamer, which might have come as a surprise to some due to his rougher manners. But he was. You didn't go into aeronautics, shooting for the stars, for anything less. He'd chased that dream a long time. Been heartbroken over losing it, when ShinRa shut things down.

And yet, he'd still fulfilled it. He'd gone to space. He'd reached for the stars, and he'd _made it_ and… and now he wasn't sure what was next. There was a lot of reverse engineering yet to be done to figure out all the strange, wonderful technology that had come along with the Shera's engine, and he'd always have a home on the skies, but fuck's sakes, he was five years til forty and it kinda felt like maybe he ought to start paying a little more attention to what was going on on the ground. People were growing up. The world was changing - had already changed _tremendously_ in the past three years alone. Where did he fit into that?

Fuck, he wasn't good at this introspective shit. Philosophy was great and all, but even psychology only took you so far before you had to get off your ass and start making real life connections.

A crooked smile hooked his mouth, and he dug out his phone, flipping it open and dialing a number he knew by heart, for someone who _excelled_ at introspective bullshit.

* * *

It would surprise many to find that while Vincent didn't answer _all_ of Cid's calls, he always made sure to call him back. In this particular case, he called back within the hour. He was quiet, even for Vincent, but his tone was warm and he agreed to letting Cid pick him up at the WRO and have drinks and a chat on the Shera.

This wasn't a new arrangement, they'd done it four, five dozen times in the three years they'd known each other - albeit, not always on the Shera - just sat down for a drink and a chat about whatever the topic of the day was. At first, Cid had carried the conversations, but he'd slowly learned to tease Vincent out of his shell through intellectual debate or just baiting his dry, sarcastic humor. The man had the _best_ deadpan Cid had had a pleasure of witnessing, and he'd worked with Rude more than once. Those red eyes told stories if you were paying attention, though.

Cid had learned damned well to pay attention to those eyes. Which was how he knew, _immediately_ , something was up when Vincent came in. But you couldn't just confront the man right off; even if he was above turning and walking out on a friend, he would clam up immediately and it'd take twice as long to get it out of him. So instead, he stubbed out his cig and came over to fall into step on the way to the Shera. "Reeve done runnin' you around for the night, or are you on call?"

Vincent chuckled softly, little more than a breath of sound with the breeze blowing by. "I'm all yours, Chief."

That sentence did funny things to Cid's insides that he'd been trying to ignore for the better part of three years. He'd learned not to let it change his expression, still offering a sunny smile as they strolled across the tarmac. "Yeah? Well good. I won't keep you too long, though."

"I wouldn't mind if you did," Vincent said mildly.

Cid's brain stuttered, not sure if he was processing that correctly or if hope had taken a wild leap to an untrue conclusion.

Then they were at the Shera and Vincent was slipping inside without further comment, the moment also slipping out of reach. Cid wasn't sure if he was relieved, or frustrated.

He followed Vincent to the deck, where they could look out at the dying light and watch as the sun set, the moon rising on the other side of the WRO base. "Beer sound good, or you want somethin' else?"

There was a brief hesitation - and it _was_ a hesitation, instead of a simple pause, he could almost hear Vincent _thinking_ \- before he said quietly that he'd take a beer.

"I got plenty'a choices, if you want," Cid said. "Not every night's a beer night."

Vincent hummed quietly, and took a seat. "It's part of the experience."

"An _experience,_ huh?" He chuckled, amused. "Haven't heard that one before."

"You're always an experience, Chief."

That could have been taken a couple ways, given Cid's general temperament, but it was said _so damn fondly,_ and that… that was something, wasn't it? There'd been glimpses, over the years, he knew Vincent _cared,_ but…

"Cid?" Vincent arched a brow, watching him.

"Sorry, head's in the clouds today I guess," Cid muttered, going back to the not-busy-enough 'work' of getting them beers. He could have used something to give him a little longer to think, coffee or tea or something. But Vincent was right, they'd almost always done beer, barring a few times Vincent had brought wine.

And then he was settling opposite Vincent, popping his own open and taking a long drink with a sigh. "'s some good shit."

Vincent snorted, smiling faintly as he took a sip of his own.

"Do I _amuse you,_ Vince?" Cid drawled, smiling broadly as he got a good look at him. With that damned mantle's collar up so high, you could barely see the lower half of his face, but his eyes betrayed him, dancing with amusement.

"I suppose you do," Vincent admitted.

"Well, least I'm good for somethin'," he quipped, surprised to see something almost like frustration flicker through his eyes. "What?"

"You shouldn't speak so deprecatingly of yourself," Vincent said.

"…now there's some irony," Cid said dryly, absurdly pleased to see Vincent blush faintly, just a dusting of pink on pale cheeks. "An' don't you go sayin' you _deserve_ it or any of that bullshit. We're neither one of us saints, an' I've been just as bad as you, if not worse."

"I find that hard to believe," Vincent said.

"Yeah, well, you've got rose colored _eyes,_ I'm not gonna make bets on you seein' me straight," Cid said.

"Clever." Still, Vincent smiled so all was well enough.

They drank in silence for a bit, and while Cid didn't _stare,_ he was very much aware of Vincent and that same odd _something_ _'s up_ feeling he'd had before. It itched under his skin, demanding attention, but hell if he knew _what_ was up. Vincent seemed himself, if a little quieter than he usually was these days. But then, he'd barely seen him since the mess with Deepground.

"You look a million miles away," Vincent said softly.

"Yeah, well. Head in the clouds." Cid smiled crookedly, taking a sip of his beer.

"Never more at home than in the sky, hm?" Vincent smiled.

"I mean, I made a livin' out of it," Cid pointed out.

"I don't know that that's the best qualifier," Vincent said. "Many have taken occupations with their heart elsewhere."

"Yeah… well, I mean, I love to fly," Cid said, which was absolutely the truth, there was no greater freedom than flight. So he wasn't quite sure why he paused.

From the way Vincent arched a brow at him, he wasn't either. "But?"

"There's not a _but,_ I love to fly," Cid said. "Period. The end."

"There was a but," Vincent said, not needling so much as that simple, matter-of-fact way he did things, that normally Cid really appreciated.

Right now, it made that itch start under his skin again. That damned _restlessness_ nip at his heels the way it had been before he'd called him. It felt like a betrayal but - and there it was, _but_ \- his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I dunno, Vince."

"You do love to fly," Vincent said, humming when Cid nodded. " _But?_ "

Cid scrubbed a hand over his hair. "It's different now, I guess."

"Why?" Vincent asked, as if it was that goddamn easy.

Cid heaved a sigh and sunk down in his chair. "I've been to _space._ A once in a fuckin' _lifetime_ opportunity."

"Does it make things less interesting here?" Vincent asked.

Did it? Cid caught his lip between his teeth. He still enjoyed flying, even if it was mostly ferrying Reeve's people around. He enjoyed being up in the air, the dizzying heights, the peace and unbridled _joy_ of soaring through the air. It was just… well… "I guess… I guess I let that dream define me for so long, I'm not really sure where to go next. I was the hotshot pilot that was gonna be the first man into space. And then we _did._ And now I'm… well, I'm the first man into space."

"But that's an achievement made, not a new goal to chase," Vincent said.

"Yeah, _that,_ " Cid agreed.

"You've always been a man of action, Cid." Vincent smiled fondly, sitting up a bit. "Is there nothing else you desire? No dreams at all left to chase?"

Cid fell silent, looking back at him. Such _concern_ in that crimson gaze; it was a wonder that so many people bought Vincent's disinterested act as a sign of deep, pervasive apathy when he was just… _selective._ Vincent Valentine cared, and quite a lot, when he let himself. He'd just been burned one too many times to leave it open to all. And really, didn't that make two of them?

Funny how much they had in common, when he bothered to look.

_Is there nothing else you desire?_

A quiet chuckle, and that damned fond look - _I_ _'m all yours, Chief._

A fluster, because to this day the man could push his buttons with no effort at all - _I won_ _'t keep you too long._

A little smile, casual as you please - _I wouldn_ _'t mind if you did._

Fucking hell. Yeah, there was something he wanted alright.

"Cid?" The concern had deepened as he leaned forward a little, a hand half raised as if he'd considered literally reaching out to him but hadn't quite committed to it yet.

That itch was back, a flutter of unease under his skin, of _restlessness_.

Of the want to _act._

"You want something," Vincent said, soft and sure, and there was that _look_ again. Something up, something different than before. Was it what he was hoping for? So much could go wrong, if he misread the signals he'd thought he was being given…

Was it worth the risk?

Vincent had been _broken,_ and was just now starting to mend. Did he have a right to risk that? To risk undoing him again, setting him back into that pained darkness?

"You know what it's like," Cid said softly. "To want something you're not sure you can have."

Vincent smiled ruefully. _Oh,_ how he knew. "You've never been one to shy away."

"Some things are too precious to risk," Cid said.

Vincent raised his hand again, and this time Cid caught it gently in his own, squeezing his fingers briefly before loosening his grip. He didn't want to make him feel trapped, never mind that Vincent was more than strong enough to pull away.

Vincent didn't pull away. He laced their fingers together, and Cid damned the layers of leather in the way between them.

For a long moment there was silence, buzzing between them with a barely leashed tension. Cid searched Vincent's eyes, hardly daring to breathe. The space between them was an eternity of unasked questions and unspoken longing - a build of _three years_ that felt like a goddamn _lifetime._ He'd been chasing after Vincent's friendship from the start, but he'd be lying to say he wasn't in favor of _more_. If he could. If Vincent would let him. If he'd _earned_ that place.

"Tell me," Vincent murmured.

"Why do I get the funniest feelin' you _know?_ " Cid asked quietly, thumb brushing over Vincent's knuckles. Even with their gloves in the way, Vincent's hand tightened slightly around his.

"Perhaps," Vincent said, just as soft. A hush had fallen over the moment, as if it could be broken by mere sound. "Perhaps I want to hear it from you."

"Yeah?" Cid wet his lips, and felt a little thrill when Vincent's gaze dropped to watch the motion. He grinned, reassured, and leaned in slowly - _so_ slowly, give him a chance to back away, to say _no, this isn_ _'t what I want_ \- but Vincent didn't. If anything, he leaned forward a little.

Their lips met, and it wasn't the fireworks that people described first kisses as, it wasn't _electric_ or _explosive_ and he didn't see stars. But it was so goddamn _easy,_ like they'd done it a hundred times before, and it felt _right._

It felt like coming home.

The restlessness settled, the urge to act sated, the unease calmed, and he could _breathe._ He made a small sound as they really broke for air, reaching to stroke Vincent's hair back delicately, admiring him from mere inches away as he leaned back just a little. "Actions speak louder than words, sometimes."

A chuckle rumbled low in Vincent's chest, and he tipped his head into the brush of gloved fingertips. "I suppose they do."

"But, uh, if we're gonna do words…" Cid hesitated, watching Vincent watch _him_ with that same fond patience. "What do _you_ want, Vince? An' none of that 'if you're happy I'm happy' bullshit alright? I can't… I can't do that. An' you shouldn't have to."

What might have initially become a protest faded to understanding, and Vincent nodded slowly. They'd both had relationships that had not at all been what they'd wanted, both been burned badly, and all the _I_ _'m sorries_ in the world didn't make it better. Still, he took his time finding words of his own, and Cid let him; this was too important to rush.

"I want…" And he hesitated, the way you did when you weren't used to those words _mattering,_ and fuck if that didn't break Cid's heart a little. His hand slipped down to rest on the soft crimson fabric covering broad shoulders, just resting there as tactile reassurance. After a moment, Vincent offered a tentative smile. "You're not letting me off the hook, are you?"

"Shouldn't feel like you're bein' hooked just to tell me what you _want_ , Vince," Cid said. "It matters to me, okay? _You_ matter, a hell of a lot."

Vincent's expression softened, red eyes warm as they regarded him, betraying a smile hidden as he reflexively ducked into his mantle collar. "I want _that._ "

"To matter?" Cid asked softly.

"I want… someone to genuinely mean that, beyond my abilities just… _me._ " Vincent sighed. "And I realize the others value me beyond my skills as a combatant, but it's _different,_ with you."

"Yeah, well, I've been gone on you a long time," Cid admitted, grinning a little to see that prompted a faint flush to pale cheeks.

"That's come to my attention, yes," Vincent said quietly. "When did…?"

"Always fancied you a bit," Cid admitted. "Once I got to _know you,_ it was all over. I was gone."

Vincent snorted softly. "You don't make it sound like a very pleasant experience."

"Ain't the nicest thing, havin' feelin's you don't expect to be returned," Cid said. "I knew we were _friends,_ but I didn't expect more."

"I appreciate that," Vincent said. "I don't think I would have been _ready_ for 'more'."

"But now?" Cid said.

"I think I'm ready to let things go," Vincent said. "To move on."

Cid squeezed his shoulder with a smile. "I'm awful glad to hear it."

"Mm." Vincent arched a brow. "Your turn. What do you want? Other than the physical."

What did he want? Cid hesitated a moment, weighing his words.

"A chance," he said finally. "'s all I ask. A chance to try us as an _us._ Physical's optional dependin' on how comfortable you are with that, I just…" He floundered a moment, unfamiliar words not coming easy. "I want you in my life."

"As more than a friend," Vincent clarified.

"I mean… I'd _like_ that, but if you're not into it -"

This time, Vincent kissed him, sweet and sure.

Cid made a breathy sound of appreciation, then a little one of loss as they parted.

"I'm 'into it'," Vincent assured him. "I'm _very_ into it."

Cid felt himself settle and grinned.

Life had just gotten _much_ more interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Valenwind, so this was a pleasure of a prompt to get. All the moreso for a writer whose works I enjoy. I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
